Should Have Known
by DelusionsofAdequacy
Summary: A brief one-shot examining what was going on in Booth's head during the final scene of "The Wannabe in the Weeds", and its aftermath.


**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I don't own "Bones" — you can bet if I did, the Bones/Booth relationship would be moving along a lot faster. All credit and ownership go to Fox, Hart Hanson, and the ever-incredible Emily Deschanel and David Boreanaz. I promise to give the characters back when I'm done playing with them, mostly in the same condition. Oh, yeah — and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" belongs to Cyndi Lauper, but you already knew that.

**Author's note:** This is my first-ever fanfiction, so please be gentle with me. Normally my writing leans toward non-fiction and essays, but "The Wannabe in the Weeds" left me with a scrap of an idea that wouldn't go away until I put it down on (virtual) paper. This is just a glimpse inside Booth's head, during and shortly after the final scene of the episode. Booth's thoughts are in italics — everything else should be self-explanatory.

**Should Have Known**

"I come home, in the morning light. My mother says 'when you gonna live your life right?'"

His first thought was:

_I should have known_.

Of course, he had joined Sweets in teasing Bones. Everyone's mother told them they were good singers when they were kids, and it was very, very Bones not to realize that.

But on the other hand, despite her occasional insecurities, Bones would never brag about being able to do something if she couldn't really do it.

_That's my Bones — always full of surprises_, he thought, his face splitting into a grin, starting to move to the music, getting into the "frivolity" he had mentioned a few minutes before. Actually, it was even better now that teasing her had turned into an opportunity to hang out and have fun with the squints, whom he had come to consider family, despite himself.

Even Sweets. Sort of.

And having a good reason not to take his eyes off her wasn't so bad, either.

_This really is fun. Maybe I'll even sing something later, and surprise her, too. Anything but Manilow..._.

Suddenly, he heard a voice, from across the room. "Seeley!" The hated first name was jarring enough to distract him from watching Bones on stage. He turned, irrationally half expecting to see his mother. But it was _Pam? Pam Nunan? Huh?_

"I'm doing this for us!" And suddenly, he saw the gun in her hand. Instinct caused the dual reaction of reaching for his own gun, and getting between her and —

_Not Temperance! No!_

Everyone looked on in horror as the shot rang out and Booth fell to the floor.

And then there she was, by his side, as always. _What is she doing? Why isn't she taking cover?_

Efficient as always, she scooped up his gun, taking Pam Nunan down with a single shot.

That's when things started to get blurry. He barely registered Hodgins' voice, and a flurry of movement. He tried so hard to focus on Bones, to stay conscious for her as she leaned over him, begging him to be alright.

As everything went dark, his last thought was:

_So sorry, Bones. Put you in danger. Should have known..._.

• • • • •

The first thing he noticed was the bright light.

The second was the rhythmic beeping.

_Hospital again. Great. Never gets old_.

The third thing he noticed was that he couldn't move his left arm.

_What the...? Why can't I lift...? Oh, God, please tell me I'm not —_

But then he realized that his arm was fine — it was just being held down. By the brilliant, beautiful (and currently sleeping) forensic anthropologist holding his hand. Who was, most importantly, safe. He watched her sleep for a moment, not wanting to wake her. Especially since, by the looks of her bloodstained shirt, she hadn't left his side all night.

Then she stirred, looking up at him with those intense blue eyes that never failed to get him. Even more so when they were tinged red from crying, like they were now.

"Hey," she said, with a tentative half-smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone shot me," he smirked. As the tears sprang back to her eyes, he continued, "It's ok, Bones. I'm going to be fine, I promise."

"I know. The doctors said you should be as good as new. I was just so scared..." she trailed off, her voice cracking a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I should have taken Sweets more seriously about Pam Nunan. It never occurred to me that she would come after you."

"I guess we should both listen to him... sometimes, anyway," she amended, making a face. "He tried to explain about Pam, but I really wasn't listening, beyond her hating me for being thinner than her. I mean, I'm not scrawny. Like I said, my body mass index —"

"I told you already," Booth interrupted. "Pam Nunan didn't hate you because you're thin. She hated you because you're confident and well adjusted and because you don't need an imaginary fiancé. And also because she assumed that you and I were..." he trailed off.

Bones lifted an eyebrow. "Assumed we were what?"

"Never mind," Booth replied. "Right now, we need have another discussion about FBI procedure." Although he used a joking tone, she could detect the serious undertone of his words.

"You see, when your partner jumps in front of you to take a bullet, you really shouldn't get right back in the line of fire. It's considered rude, and no way to thank him."

She gave him one of those rare million-watt smiles that he lived for. "You really don't get it, Booth, do you?"

"Get what?"

"You've saved me, so many times. In New Orleans... when I was buried alive... tonight. You've proven over and over that you would do literally anything to protect me, to take care of me. Don't you know that I would do anything for you, too?" she asked, gently squeezing his hand.

Grinning, Booth didn't respond. He just lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

_I guess I didn't_, he thought. _But I should have known. And when I get out of this hospital bed, I'm finally going to do something about it._

**The End**

_**Reviews are much appreciated — even if it's just to tell me to stick to reading fanfic instead of writing it!**_


End file.
